Far out, not quite at the middle of the lake, bright shapes as white as seagulls were rippling into view. Canoes, big canoes each holding several paddlers and just as many passengers. Canoes made of glistening white stone. Then, remembering one of the stories Carries had shared with them, Okwaho realized the canoes were made from the bark of white birch trees—just like the one the Peacemaker used to reach the lands of the Longhouse Nations. In the moons since his arrival, he must have shown people how to make such canoes, ones that looked to be much swifter than the heavy dugouts the Five Nations always used before.

As the great gathering of boats came closer, Okwaho began to count the canoes. Ten, twenty, forty, a hundred. He shook his head. There were too many to count. It was as if the surface of the lake had come alive, transformed into water craft. There were hundreds of canoes approaching, covering the surface of the lake—perhaps even a thousand of them.

A thousand canoes filled with people!

Something like this had never happened before. What a great thing it was to see, all of the warriors, clan mothers, and chiefs of four of their great nations joined together for one common purpose. That purpose was to bring the Great Peace to Onondaga and unite all five of their nations.

Suddenly the idea of peace actually being accepted for his Onondaga people no longer seemed to Okwaho like a wishful dream. Even with all of his warriors, Atatarho would be far outnumbered.

chapter seventeen

COMBING ATATARHO’S HAIR

The canoes did not land where Atatarho and his warriors were waiting on the shore. That was a good decision. Before they landed, he might have given the order to shoot arrows at them. Instead, the great flotilla came straight into the cove, with its wide shoreline, where the people of Okwaho’s little village waited for them.

The Peacemaker was the first to step onto the shore, lifting himself gracefully from his canoe to stand tall. There was a gentle smile on his face. Similar smiles seemed to be on all of the relaxed happy faces of the men sharing his canoe. Those men from his canoe were clearly Flint Stone People, as were those in the many canoes surrounding his. The delegations from each of the four nations were grouped together as they landed. So many, many people. Hundreds of canoes of Swampy Land men were off to Okwaho’s right. Even more Great Stone canoes were beyond them, while farthest down the beach was the equally large Standing Stone group. They were so far away that he could not make out any of their faces, even when he squinted his eyes.